The Art of Love (The Windswept Saga) (38 page)

A
few minutes later CJ led the two horses into the sunlight.  Chandler mounted first, figuring that might push his brother’s buttons.  If he was going to join in the ride this morning, well, they might as well toss on the old competitive spirit.  CJ usually wore it like a mantle; Chandler, less so, although he’d keep it in his back pocket for emergencies.

Chandler led his brother up a path of his choosing, well-worn and familiar.  He kept silent for a few minutes, letting the sounds of nature and hooves provi
de the soundtrack.  After all, he’d meant for this to be a peaceful trip.

“I couldn’t find you Thursday, kid,” CJ drawled from one corner of his mouth.  “The gallery was closed and you weren’t on the ranch.  Where the hell did ya go?”

Scratch that peace and quiet,
Chandler thought with a smile.  “I was in town.”

CJ adjusted Cheyenne’s reins and pulled alongside.  “Where in town?”

“Main Street,” Chandler replied like it was some great revelation.

CJ chuckled under his breath.  “That’s a
pretty long street.”

“Yeah.”

“‘Yeah?’” he echoed.  “Did you use up your word allowance for the month?”

Chandler restrained himself for bursting out in laughter.  “I went to
pick up a ring.”

“Oh,” CJ said like a kid who’d just discovered water froze at thir
ty-two degrees.

“Oh,” Chandler answered.  “No offense, bro, but I’ve only told Mark so far because he knows how to lock his mouth up tighter than Fort Knox.”

“I’m a little hurt,” CJ pouted.  Chandler noted a grin affixed to his mouth from his peripheral vision.  “I thought you and I were closer than that.”

“We are,” he answered firmly.  “But this is also the most important decision in my life and you have loose damned lips.”

“Hmm.  I’d take that as an insult if it weren’t true.”  He fell silent then and devoted his concentration onto the horse, Chandler doing the same thing barely two feet away.  “So when are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

“Later today.  Also, I want you and Alison to come over tonight.  I’m going to tell the two of you, along with Mark and
Christa, at their house.  Which is a moot point, because only the women are clueless at this juncture.”

“We’ll be there.”  Chandler overheard him draw in a sharp breath.  “Did you give this a lot of thought?”

“Didn’t you?” came the quick retort.  He allowed CJ a few minutes to marinate the question in his head; he kept his lips closed tight aside from a subtle command to the horse.  He could feel the heat from the summer sun on the back of his neck, or maybe that was his brother’s gaze burning a hole through him.

“That ain’t a fair question, Chandler.  You know better than almost anybody how much I agonized over that decision.”

“I know,” he replied in a sympathetic voice.  “But wasn’t it one of the easiest decisions you ever made?  Those things can be both simple and complex.”       

“Yeah,” CJ agreed with a nod.  “I’ve never regretted a day with her—good times and bad, through it all, she’s the one that makes life worth living.”

They pulled their horses to a stop, stared down across the valley below, the sun turning the tree trunks into a long series of skeletal shadows, standing in direct contrast to the otherwise verdant hues of summer.  A closer glance revealed trees that were very much alive, their needles twisting in the wind.

“You have to g
et married here on the ranch,” CJ reminded him.

“I know,” he answered quietly.

CJ cleared his throat.  “I used to think that you’d wind up marrying some girl that I didn’t like and settle down in a loft somewhere, overlooking a store where they served food I can’t even pronounce much less eat, and that I’d never forgive you.  That would’ve been selfish, right?”

Chandler simply smiled.  “No more selfish than it would’ve been for me to do it.”

***

Alison dragged the last of the boxes from the back of the buil
ding and easily rested them atop the counter.  If their weight or bulk had bothered her, she didn’t let it show in any way.  With her hair pulled up under her hat, she was all business today.

“You didn’t have to come in today to help, but I’m glad you did.
”

Taylor unpacked each piece of pottery individually as she placed them on the shelves.  The store was beginning to look like, well, a store again.  “You’re not technically my boss, and thus I could have said no.”  She turned to Alison and smiled.  “But I
thought this would be a nice change of pace from my usual Saturday routine, especially with Chandler out at the ranch.”

She pulled out a box cutter and ripped into each box with lightning speed.  “Did you enjoy the 4
th
of July festivities?”

“I did.  So did
my mother.”

“It’s always a fun time
.  You probably felt a little inundated by so many relatives gathered in one place, children underfoot and the like.”

“Not at all,” Taylor countered.  She and Alison removed shirts from their plastic wrappers and refolde
d them atop a table.  “The more the merrier.”  They worked in silence for a few minutes, Taylor noticing her friend’s uncomfortable posture.  “Are you okay?” she finally asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, quickly brushing off the question.

“Okay.”  Taylor frowned to herself for a moment.  “Do you ever think of having another child?” she queried, and regretted it the instant she saw Alison stiffen, her back rail-straight and her mouth set into a hard line.

“Two or three doctors recommended that I don’t,” she expla
ined, her eyes cast downward.

“I’m sorry.”

Alison shook her head.  “It’s not your fault.”  She cleared her throat, a sound Taylor recognized as the purging of raw emotion.  Their eyes met, and Taylor understood the sadness behind them.  “After Little Chase was born, I experienced severe postpartum depression.  The same thing with Bree.  Both times, I sought medical treatment.  I was strangely self-aware of it—I knew what was happening when the feeling came on, the maligned way of thinking that allowed me to believe I’d be a horrible mother.  The medication helped, and CJ stayed on my ass like a mountain lion on a piece of raw meat.”  She looked at Taylor with concern.  “I’m not telling you all of this to try and draw sympathy—Lord knows you’ve been through something worse than any of us, and you’re still standing.  Christa nearly lost her son and her husband, but now their marriage is stronger than ever.  Our lives may look one way from the outside, but nothing’s ever perfect.  You just make the best of it and love as hard as you can every day you’re alive.”  She wiped a tear away from her left eye.  “God, I hate crying.”

Taylor smiled warmly.  “You’re an amazing mother, you know.  One kid was pretty demanding—two must be a real balancing act.”

“I didn’t have any doubts when I married him,” Alison began, a happier expression returning to her visage, “but CJ is an amazing father.  I guess it helps that he’s a natural leader.  We all help each other, for that matter.  If you and Chandler were to get married someday,” she suggested hopefully, “you’d no longer be an only child.  Someone would always have your back.”

“I would love to be married again,” Taylor replied, “and I suppose he’d be my ideal partner.”  Alison laughed.  “But…”

“But what?”

“What if I’m no good
at it?” she asked, her voice filled with trepidation.

“Having seen the two of you together, for a sickening amount of time,” she teased, “I’d say you’d be good at it for at least fifty years—maybe longer.”  Alison tossed the boxes behind the counter and ga
ve her store a cursory glance.  Seemingly satisfied, she turned to Taylor and smiled.  “Ready for Monday morning,” she declared.

Taylor nodded.  “I’ll be here.” 
And so will Chandler.

***

Christa left the door ajar and resumed her place in the living room.  “The kids are asleep,” she announced quickly.  Chandler’s eyes scanned each of them, his best friends in the world. 
What they must be thinking,
he wondered.  Even Mark and CJ, in on the purpose for the meeting, wore curious grins on their mouths.  They’d eaten dinner, and now Chandler commanded the room’s attention.  He felt oddly nervous, generally an emotion reserved for segments of time with the woman he loved.  Maybe it was the gravity of what he had to say, and its direct relationship to her, that caused his apprehension this evening.

“Thanks for coming,” he said as an introduction.

“Well, I was already here,” Mark joked, “it being my house and all.”  He rolled his eyes and everyone groaned affably.  “Let the man talk,” he said, pointing his extended hand toward Chandler.

“Thank you, Mr. Jasper,” he said with a smile.  Mark hooked his arm around Christa and grinned.  “Anyway, as I told Mom and Dad earlier today, I’m planning to ask fo
r Taylor’s hand in marriage.”  He was greeted with light clapping, in deference to the sleeping children.

“It’s about damned time,” Alison chided him.

“Come on,” he countered with a shrug.  “We’ve only been together about six months.”  His neck burned and he figured everyone else could see it, too.  “This is a major decision, and I don’t want to rush it.”

“How did Mom and Dad react?” was Christa’s first question.

“Dad slapped me on the back hard enough to dislodge my diaphragm.”

“That sounds like Chase,” Ma
rk chimed in.

“Mom was a little more subdued,” Chandler said while angling one hand to scratch the back of his neck.  “But she kissed me on the cheek, said she loved me and that I was making the right decision.”

CJ tapped an index finger against his lips, then parted them in a wide smile.  “So, when will the blessed event take place?”

“Um…”  Chandler stammered against their expectant gazes.  At a time like this, words failed him.  “I wanted to ask her mother’s permission first, but I was thinking about
taking the ring with me on the camping trip, and asking her as soon as we got back.”

He heard crickets chirp, or maybe that was just t
he silent clacking of his mind as it turned over the idea and it landed with a thud.

Alison was the first to speak.  “No,”
she stated simply.

Chandler frowned as he noted the four impassive faces.  “What?”

“It’s too impersonal, little brother,” Christa reinforced.  “We’ll all be there, sure, but we already know.  You’ve gotta put more thought into the setting, and the words you’re going to say.  It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it does need to be special, memorable, and unique.”

“Tall order,” CJ surmised in his typical, understated fashion.  “There’s always the Labor Day Rodeo, but that’s been done.”  Alison slapped him play
fully on the knee.

Chandler muttered a curse under his breath, but loud enough to be heard.  “So what should I do, then?  Hang onto this ring until the metal tarnishes?”

“You’re the artist, Picasso,” CJ joked good-naturedly.  “It can’t be that hard to figure out.”

Mark snapped his fingers.  “I have an idea…
but
…it’ll be our secret.  No offense to my wife, my sister, and whatever the hell CJ is…”

“Ouch,” he said with a fake grimace, crossing both hands over his heart.

“…But,” Mark continued, “I neither want nor expect any credit for my plan.  When I pass it along to Chandler, it becomes his property, lock, stock, and barrel.  I’ll help, though.  I’ll do that much.”

Chandler felt a debt of gratitude for Mark, smiling as he remembered how much they’d assisted on
e another over the years.  Their lives had inevitably altered as they grew toward adulthood, but here they were, still confederates on yet another of life’s journeys.  Mark had a head start on him when it came to starting his own family, and he’d be playing catch-up for a while.  Their bond of friendship somehow both transcended and bolstered their respective families.  When Mark ambled across the room and whispered in his ear, he damn sure listened.  And, unsurprisingly, it was just about the best idea he’d ever heard.

“We’ll get to work on it immediately,” Mark said aloud
for everyone’s benefit, though they remained in the dark in regard to “it”. “I’ll make the phone calls Monday.”

“Thanks, man.”  Chandler gripped his right shoulder.  “I’ll owe you.”

Mark shook his head.  “Never.  I just want you to be as happy as I am.”  His eyes scanned the room.  “As happy as we all are.” 

Chapter 25

“Chandler.”

Alice looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude.  He wondered how she viewed him in that instant; he felt sheepish and vulnerable, like the slightest breeze would knock him down.  He blinked his eyes a few times and silently gathered up his courage.

“Won’t you come in?” she asked.
  He stepped inside and removed his hat, holding it in both hands.  He followed her toward the living room, where she took her usual seat.